


Glory Is In The Beholder

by foggynite



Category: Initial D, Initial D (manga)
Genre: Gen, Masturbation, Night Kids, Pre-Slash, Spoilers, Spoilers: Volume 3 (Initial D), Spoilers: Volume 4 (Initial D), Spoilers: Volume 7 (Initial D), set post-defeat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 15:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30091515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: Zack and Shingo reflect on the new team dynamics.
Relationships: Nakazato Takeshi/Shouji Shingo
Kudos: 4





	1. Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 9/13/03.
> 
> Nakazato was translated to "Zack" by TOKYOPOP back in the day.
> 
> Spoilers definitely for Initial D #3, 4, and 7. Assumes you’ve read the rest, too.

“Hey guys, he won. Get over it.” Zack tried not to sound bitter, but really… 

It was bad enough that the younger Takahashi brother had defeated him, but then to have his own team still harping over the fact hours later?

“But he cheated!” One of the younger drivers exclaimed passionately. “It shoulda been called off cause of the rain, but he kept driving…”

“It’s not cheating to finish a race, but the guy is a _psycho_!” Another Night Kid commented.

“It’s not psycho to be confident in your skills, and both Takahashi brothers have mad skills--”

“It’s not ‘mad skills’ to almost kill yourself over a race--”

And the arguing continued.

Sighing lightly in resignation, Zack took another swig of his beer and wished them all out of his apartment. The night’s race had left him jazzed, and since he wasn’t one to pick up groupies, he wanted to ease some tension, which was impossible with eight pairs of eyes staring at him in righteous indignation on his behalf. He would have laughed at the fact that they were actually acting like a team for the first time in forever, if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

“It’s four a.m.,” Shingo mentioned from his sprawl on Zack’s ratty couch, almost as if he had read Zack’s thoughts. The injured Night Kid had slowly claimed the entire futon throughout the night, and now lay across it with a half-empty beer bottle resting on his stomach.

His quiet words had the desired effect and people started muttering about going home. Zack inwardly rejoiced. Soon the Night Kids were filing out the door, tossing their trash away and slapping Zack on the back as they went past his chair.

Sighing with relief and ready to get down to business, he looked fiercely towards his couch when he realized Shingo was still draped over it.

“Don’t you have a home to go to, Shouji?”

Shingo smirked over at him. “I’m getting there….”

Zack rolled his eyes and pulled himself to his feet. He needed to do something with his hands, so he started picking up the bottles and food wrappers left around the living room. 

Exhaling noisily, Shingo awkwardly tried to sit up using his right arm for balance, and Zack froze, causing Shingo to tense in turn.

“Shit!”

“What?”

“You’re still on painkillers?” At Shingo’s confused expression, Zack frowned and motioned to the beer bottle in the downhill specialist’s good hand. “Should you be drinking?”

Amused, Shingo relaxed and stretched his legs out in front of the futon. “Chill, Nakazato. Half a beer won’t kill me…”

Glaring, Zack muttered under his breath, “Yeah, but I might…” as he returned to cleaning up. 

He was startled by Shingo’s genuine laughter, a far cry from the other racer’s usual caustic attitude.

“What?” He finally demanded, realizing that he had been staring, and that Shingo had stopped laughing and was watching him right back.

“Nothin’. Just if anybody was listening, they might think you cared…”

Zack flushed and turned to his kitchen. “Yer full of shit.”

“Yeah.” Shingo’s tone was easy as he got to his feet and followed Zack into the other room. 

The détente between the two was new enough that Zack was still surprised at their semi-comfortable interaction. Things were almost easier when they hated each other’s guts because now that the full-out hate wasn’t building a wall between them, there was this... tension, and Zack tried not to look at it too closely.

The entire apartment was small, so Shingo had to brush past Zack to get to the sink, and the leader of the Night Kids made a conscious effort not to jerk away from his touch.

“Look, it’s not my fault you were stupid and broke your damn wrist. You’re lucky it wasn’t your damn neck.” His ire went up a notch when Shingo smirked and leaned casually against the fridge door. “It’s bad enough you’re out for the next month; just think of how the team’d be screwed after all these losses if you wrapped yourself around a tree. Going up against Fujiwara before we had a game plan was just stupid. I don’t know what the hell possessed you to challenge that kid to a duct tape match anyway--”

“Just like I don’t know why you kept racing in that downpour tonight?” Shingo sounded bored and that just incited Zack further.

“That’s not the point!” Always hot-headed, he let his anger get the best of him and slammed his palm into the door next to Shingo’s head.

But Shingo hadn’t even flinched at the violence, and Zack finally paused mid-rant.

Shingo had challenged Tak, hoping to win where the Night Kid’s leader had failed, thereby taking over the position of number one driver on the team. Instead, he’d had his ass handed to him by an eighteen-year-old in an ancient car and couldn’t drive for a few months. But he still came to the races, even supported Zack’s efforts on the team’s behalf.

He blinked down at Shingo, who just stared back at him with a neutral expression.

The injured racer was the only other Night Kid that evening who hadn’t protested the race’s validity because of the rain. That’s why Shingo was his number two driver, and the rest were just scrambling to catch up to them. On the road, you don’t back down. Basic racer pride.

“So maybe you do have a point.” Zack acceded grudgingly but didn’t back away. 

It felt good to have Shingo trapped like that, caged in without the smart-ass comments. Shingo’s brown eyes looking up at him, waiting for him to do something, maybe, licking his lips like he was waiting to be kissed-- And Zack could see himself doing it, just leaning his head down and taking and--

“Dammit.” He pushed away from the other racer, cheeks flaming, and stormed back into the living room.

He was still riled up from the race, that’s all. Here he was, getting hard over his friend—a fellow driver he only recently hated and wished horrible things upon—and he called himself team leader? What kind of guy was he?

Shingo was in the archway between rooms, watching Zack pace back and forth. He didn’t seem freaked out, not that Zack could tell, but he was probably waiting for Zack to stop moving so he’d be an easier target with that damn cast.

“Hey.”

Zack spun quickly. “What? What?”

“Chill, man. It’s cool.” But Shingo’s face was guarded. He sighed and absently cradled his cast to his chest. “Look, it’s late. I’ll go. Let you crash.”

Zack didn’t move as Shingo retrieved his keys from the battered coffee table. Flipping the ring in his left palm, listening to the disjointed jangle, Shingo looked as though he would say more. Zack cleared his throat and turned his head to stare at the chrome of his kitchen sink.

“You drove well tonight,” Shingo finally said.

Zack whipped his head around in surprise. His tone was matter of fact. “I lost.”

“Yeah.” The keys jingled again, almost nervously. Shingo licked his lower lip. “Yeah, you lost. In the rain nearly neck and neck, and you didn’t almost kill half a dozen onlookers doing it.”

“Oh, not this again--” Zack frowned, looking at Shingo’s eyes instead of his mouth. “I thought you were cool with it!”

“I am.” Shingo held his gaze. “You finished it. It’s what I would have done. But I don’t think KT should be put up on a pedestal as some racing god just because he thought to jump the curb instead of keeping his car in the lanes. It’s a dumb trick he’s lucky he pulled off, because a thousand different factors could have sent him into the wall, into the crowd or… or into you.”

The last sentence was subdued, uttered quietly. Zack forced himself to look away from the unspoken conversation in Shingo’s eyes. He shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Shingo repeated dully. “So I think you did good tonight. I’m still proud to be a Night Kid.”

Zack swallowed and nodded. “Just have to push it harder, when you’re back on the road.”

“Count on it.”

The door opened and shut softly. Zack didn’t relax until the echo of Shingo’s footsteps faded down the hall. Later, in just his boxers on his couch, he pumped himself roughly, thinking of brown eyes and a full lower lip. He came with a shameful groan.


	2. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Night Kids race with Team Emperor, the team dynamics shift further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written 12/28/04.

Shingo had a bad feeling about Zack racing the guy from Team Emperor, but his unease wasn’t reflected in the faces of his teammates. They all stood around talking shit while waiting for the checkpoints to call in. Shingo didn’t like it. Maybe because the guys on the opposing team reminded him too much of himself before his accident.

“This is checkpoint two to starting line. The Evo is in the lead.”

The Emperor groupies cheered. He looked over at Imagawa, who was glaring at Kyle Sudoh, the Emperor’s leader. Sudoh merely smirked back at them.

“This is checkpoint three to starting line. We’ve got Hawk in the lead.”

The Night Kids exchanged wary glances. Maybe Zack was just hanging back, studying his opponent’s moves?

“This is checkpoint four to starting line!”

“Go ahead, four.”

“Man, I think someone just kissed concrete! I heard the crunch all the way here--”

Shingo grabbed the walkie-talkie from Hawk. “Check point four, what’s the situation?”

“I hear someone coming; can’t tell who yet… We’ve got the Evo IV. I don’t see the GTR--”

Shingo tossed the radio back before the speaker finished.

"Imagawa, get your car." He was already walking away.

"What?" Imagawa started to follow him, confused.

"Get your damn car or give me your keys!"

Imagawa quickly ran to the driver's side of his car before Shingo could reach it. They rode in silence up the mountain, leaving behind the smirking faces of Team Emperor. Shingo tapped his foot steadily, scanning the curves in front of them.

"Zack's a good driver, man..." Imagawa offered, eyes on the road.

"Yeah," Shingo agreed. "But so am I."

Imagawa shut up and started going just a little faster. Three turns into the worst of it and there was the GTR, easing its way back into the proper lane. Pulling up behind it, Imagawa flashed his headlights. Zack flicked his once and slowly guided the GTR to the next pull off point.

As soon as the car stopped, Shingo was out the door. He paused a few feet away from the open driver's window. Fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, Zack was staring straight ahead and visibly grinding his teeth. Noting the stormy expression, Shingo surveyed the outside damage first.

The driver's side headlight was shattered, and most likely part of the frame was crunched, meaning Zack would have to replace the entire front section instead of just having the body pounded back into shape. That meant lots of man hours put in on cutting and welding, plus a new paint job and headlight casing. He couldn't be sure in the poor light, but it looked like the tire was at a slight angle, which possibly meant axle damage. It was apparently in good enough condition to drive, so they wouldn't have to tow it, but the car was pretty thrashed.

He stood back and waited for Zack to lose it. Imagawa stayed safely behind his own car door. They both tensed when Zack slammed his hands on the steering wheel, but Shingo came forward when the team leader winced and reached for his shoulder.

"Hey," Shingo said as he opened the driver's side door and crouched down. "You all right?"

Zack kept his eyes firmly on the trees in front of the windshield. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Right." Shingo said neutrally.

After a moment of silence, Zack finally looked over at him. "Really. Just a little sore, but I'm all right. Unlike my car. _Dammit._ "

Shingo thumped the seat with his cast. "Better the car than you, Nakazato."

Zack's expression was incredulous as he snorted. "You wouldn't have said that two months ago."

"I'm wise in my old age," Shingo drawled. "Think she'll make it home?"

"Yeah. She better." Zack pounded the steering wheel again. "Dammit."

Sighing, he motioned to the passenger side. "C'mon. Let's go face these jokers."

As Zack reached over to unlock the door, Shingo waved to the cowering Imagawa and went around to get in.

The Night Kids went to their usual post-race diner after those Emperor bastards had the balls to cut their team sticker up in front of them. Zack was swearing the entire way there, and Shingo just hoped he got it out of his system before they had to deal with the rest of the team. There were only a few third stringers waiting when they arrived, so Shingo split to the bathroom.

He avoided his own eyes in the mirrors. The risks were just another reason they raced. They were adrenaline junkies. He had to hold Zack to the same standards he held himself. Of that, there was no question.

More team members had arrived at the table by the time Shingo got back. It looked like things might get ugly. Imagawa was trying to restrain Zack, who was getting in the face of their top rookie, Kai. Kai was standing smugly with his arms folded, backed up his flunkies. Shingo should have seen this coming.

“Face it, old man. You don’t have the skills to lead the Night Kids.”

“Oh, and you do?” Zack demanded.

“I didn’t blow three races in a row, man. You’ve made the Night Kids the laughingstock of the prefecture. I say we need new management.” Kai looked around for support, but only a few of the other team members were nodding and they were all third string or worse.

“There a problem here?” Shingo asked gruffly as he approached the table. 

Zack stiffly moved to the side so he could join the circle.

“Yeah, you still looking to be team leader?” Kai snapped, glaring at Zack, who tensed even more, if possible.

“I look like I can race right now?” Shingo snorted. “Besides, we already have a leader.”

“And I’m not stepping down, punk,” Zack growled at Kai. “You want me out, fine. Your bitch ass better beat me uphill _and_ down, first, before you even open your goddamn mouth.”

Grabbing his jacket, Zack glared at the entire gathering. “That goes for anyone else who thinks he’s got the balls to be leader. You know where to find me.”

With that, he stormed away from the table. Kai shouted, “We’ll have to wait until your car’s fixed first!”

Zack just kept walking and slammed the glass doors shut behind him. The few other diner patrons averted their eyes and returned to their conversations.

Kai rounded on Shingo in the resulting silence. “Dude, what’s up with that? I thought you hated Zack?”

Shingo gave the wannabe a smirk. 

“That was before I had to shell out three week’s pay to repair my car.” He paused. “Look, if there’s one thing I’ve figured out, it’s that we gotta work as a team if we want the Night Kids to be taken seriously.”

He glanced at the door Zack had slammed shut. “Yeah, Nakazato fucked up. But you know what? None of you assholes can even come close to him on the uphill, so what’re you bitching about?”

The team was silent. Some of the younger members were glaring at him, while others looked uncomfortable, but Shingo didn’t care. He was partly responsible for the shit Zack was getting, if only because he’d been the loudest of the naysayers before. Kai was only doing what Shingo had taught him to, and it was up to Shingo to start mending the rifts he’d caused.

“Look,” he tried again when no one else spoke. “We’ve had a string of shitty luck. No one’s denying that. But we’ve held our own against some of the top racers in Gunma. Our cred’s not totally destroyed, but we’re gonna have to work to get it back. So we train harder. Do more runs. As a team. Bitching and moaning about it won’t make that happen.”

A few others agreed with him, but Kai just made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. Shingo shrugged, tired of the whole mess for the night, and turned to Imagawa.

“You ready to head out?”

“Yeah.”

They left the subdued team to stew over the latest defeat and got in Imagawa’s car. Shingo had taken his Civic to get the last phase of repairs completed, so he was basically bumming rides off people for a few days. It sucked because yeah, Imagawa was a decent driver, but nothing compared to being the one behind the wheel. Just looking at another person’s car made Shingo’s fingers itch.

“You want me to drop you off at your place?” Imagawa asked absently as he pulled onto the highway.

“Nah. Drop me off at Nakazato’s.”

Imagawa gave him a speaking glance, but Shingo just rolled his eyes. They reached Zack’s apartment building, and luckily the GTR was parked out front. At least it being banged up meant Zack wasn’t out driving off his frustrations.

“Hey,” Imagawa said, touching Shingo’s arm as he went to get out of the car. When Shingo looked at him, there was something a little too close to the truth in his eyes. “Good luck. Don’t let him throw you out a window.”

“I won’t.”

“I know.”

Shingo pulled himself from the car one-handedly and took a fortifying breath before heading to the stairs. Zack’s apartment door came up all too soon. He knocked with his good hand, staring absently down at the next landing.

“What?” Zack demanded, yanking open the door.

“You gonna make me freeze my nuts off out here?” Shingo put in just enough attitude to keep Zack from getting defensive. 

The team leader glared at him for a moment as it was, obviously debating whether he was there to gloat or pity him. Shingo gave him an “Are you concussed?” look, and Zack finally stepped to the side. 

“You got anything to drink?”

As expected, Zack laughed at his presumption, and motioned to the fridge. “Help yourself.”

Shingo snagged two beers and joined him in the living room. The downhill specialist threw himself across the couch, smirking as Zack paced back and forth. The third time Zack mis-stepped and grimaced, Shingo sighed and beckoned him over.

“C’mere.”

“What?” Hackles rising, Zack frowned.

“Just shut up and come over here, ass.”

The ease that Zack complied with spoke more of his injuries than his silence as Shingo reached for him, arranging him on the couch. Pressing his good thumb along Zack’s left shoulder blade, Shingo had to smile at the low groan it evoked.

“Was I that obvious?” Zack murmured.

“Not really.”

Shingo massaged the sore muscles until Zack shifted away from his hand. When he let his hand drop, he leaned back so Zack could turn to face him. The temperamental leader regarded him with sleepy eyes until Shingo looked uncomfortably away.

They weren’t men who went in for casual touches. They didn’t pick up groupies, not anymore. Not since they’d gotten serious about their racing. When Shingo had joined the team, they’d wanted to kill each other from the start. Since they’d reached a truce, the anger behind the aggression had been stripped away, and something more honest was revealed.

They’d been dancing around this for weeks. Since even before the Duct Tape Death Match and Shingo’s wreck. Up until this point, they hadn’t dared to really acknowledge it, but tonight... Maybe Zack wrecking too had evened up the playing field. Maybe it had made Shingo’s stomach turn inside out. 

Who knew, but he found himself asking, "What are we doing here, Nakazato?"

"Well," Zack smirked, probably thinking he scored points for not mentioning it first. "I _had_ hoped we'd be making out..."

Shingo rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He started to stand up, but Zack caught his hand, entwining their fingers together and tugging him back down.

"Relax, man. You're such a dick."

Shingo punched him in the arm with his cast. Hard. "Asshole."

"Look," Zack said when he stopped snickering. "It is what it is. I'm not exactly ready to advertise this to the guys, but I don't mind seeing where it takes us."

Glaring, Shingo snarled, "Long as you're not fucking with me--"

He broke off when Zack started leering.

"I swear, you're like twelve, man."

"I prefer the term 'immature bastard,' actually..." Zack said around his laughter. 

Before Shingo could say anything else, though, Zack pulled on his trapped hand until the other man fell forward, sprawling awkwardly across the futon.

"Real smooth, jerk." Shingo grumbled, but Zack’s mouth was right there and then they were kissing. It was warm and wet and ended just as abruptly as it started when Shingo accidentally smacked Zack in the side of the head with his cast.

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. It’s been one of those nights.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

“I don’t think I have to.”

Sighing in resignation, Zack scooted down. Shingo arranged himself over the other man, legs entwined, careful of his cast as he craned his neck to resume their kiss. The futon was only meant for one person, but they’d manage. 

They always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr


End file.
